Seeing Stars
by SarahCoury
Summary: John has encountered some bullies and it is up to his brothers to help.
1. Chapter 1

It's everywhere.

He can feel it in his bottom lip. In his wrist. That spot behind his leg that seems to be their favorite. His heartbeat. He can feel it, thumping and thrumming, confirming that they didn't kill him. Not this time.

He knows he's bleeding, but it's impossible to tell which parts are and which parts aren't. He knows he supposed to stop the blood, because that's what all the books say, but his arm won't move and he can't, for the life of him, pick up his own head. Instead, he just stays there, his heartbeat swallowing him whole, _buh-bump, buh-bump, buh-bump_ , drowning out the sounds of crickets and fading laughter.

He wants to cry, but he won't. He wants to disappear, but he can't. All and all, he's out of options, and all he can do is think about how much easier this would be if he could at least see the stars.

He hears the doors clatter, and his heartbeat picks up, banging against his ears and pulsing through all of the pain. _They're back_ , he thinks. _They're back, they're back, they're back_.

But his logic remains. If there's anything he has left, it's that, and he knows that they have the key. That they wouldn't need to kick through the door. All of a sudden, he knows exactly who's on the other side.

The doors are supposed to open outward, which he knows not just because he's read about every fire-safety law in the country, but also because this isn't the first time he's been locked inside. The doors are supposed to open outward, but those doors had never come face-to-face with Virgil Tracy on a mission.

Scott's the first one in. Of course. He always is. At first, John can't hear him over his own heartbeat, but soon Scott's words become their own pulse. "It's okay, John. It's okay. It's okay–shit! It's okay."

Virgil's just standing there, trying to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do.

"I'll kill them," Scott says.

This is what finally gets John going again. "No," he says. His heartbeat is too loud–to present. It's everywhere. _Buh-bump, buh-bump, buh-bump._ "That's what they want. That's why they do it."

"Well merry Christmas to them," Scott spits. "Looks like they're getting what they asked for."

"Scott," says John. He can't be sure how well his words are coming out. His lip's busted and they knocked his head around pretty hard. "Promise. Promise you won't."

Scott looks to Virgil and John knows he's in bad shape. That's the only reason those two ever exchange that look. He's not surprised when Virgil takes his big, brooding steps forward and scoops him up. Little brother. Yeah right. "Let's get you the hell out of here," says Virgil.

But John doesn't give up. He may not be strong or heroic like his brothers, but he's persistent. "Scott," he says again. "Stay away from them."

The word isn't much more than a grumble when Scott says, "Fine."

John tries to look at him, just to see if Scott's lying, but he can barely get his eyes open and even then, he can't turn his head. He's just stuck there, listening to his heartbeat as Virgil carries him back to Scott's car, but he smiles anyway.

Because at least now, he's looking at the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

John's crying. The jackasses who did this are out in the world, Virgil just wants to go home, but John's crying and Scott can't think about anything else. "Hang in there, Johnny," he calls towards the backseat.

Virgil's back there, doing the best he can, but John's always been the know-it-all. John's always been the one with an extensive knowledge on all things Earth and beyond. John would know what to do. He always did.

But John's crying, and this isn't like Scott's calculus homework or Virgil's physics tests. John can't help them this time. "How's he look?" Scott asks.

Scott can't make out much in his rearview mirror except a pair of too-bright headlights and the silhouette of Virgil's latest haircut. He can hear, though, which means he can hear the way his little brother's voice shakes when he answers. "I don't - Scott. It's not good."

John just keeps crying. Maybe it's gotten louder, but Scott can't bring himself to mind. At least he's breathing.

"We need help," says Virgil. "We need-"

"Don't say it," says Scott.

"I don't know what I'm doing," snaps Virgil. "And John looks half dead. We need _Dad_ , Scott."

And now Virgil sounds like he's on the edge. Like he knows he's not supposed to cry, but he can't quite help himself. He's scared out of his mind, which Scott knows not because he's particularly perceptive, but because he's scared, too.

He feels like he's supposed to say something. He feels like he's supposed to be a big brother right now, but really, all he can think about is how much he wants Dad to tell him that John's going to be okay.

"Not Dad," squeaks John. "Not Dad."

And Scott _knows_ John's right. He just knows it. If they bring in Dad now, it's game over. If they tell Dad about this incident, then they'll have to tell him about all the others. About all the other trips home with John in the backseat, bloody nose and fat lip.

And Dad will destroy the guys who did this. Dad will spend his entire fortune on making sure that somebody pays, and that much, Scott has to admit, sounds just fine by him. What comes after that, he remembers, is what they're trying to avoid. John will get twice the beatings once people start to think that Dad fights all the battles. They can't let him find out - there's already been too much damage.

But this time is worse than all the others. John had practically been left to die - and for what? Because Scott gets good grades? Because the teachers love him? Because Scott actually has a goddamn future that's worth more than anything those losers can even _dream_? John's right. They were just looking to get a rise out of him, but one look at John and Scott knows it's working. One look at John and Scott knows he'll kill whoever's responsible.

This is the worst John's ever looked and it's just too big for Scott to handle.

"His arm's broken," says Virgil. "And his head is... Scott, I think he needs a doctor."

Everyone in the car knows what that means. It means hospitals and ERs and insurance. It means Dad, which is probably why John says, "Don't tell him."

Scott grits his teeth. "John-"

"Please," he begs through the tears. "Please don't tell him."

John sounds like a little brother. He's smarter and wittier and calmer, so Scott never really sees him as little, but John sounds like a little brother right then, and Scott just wants to punch something. Broken arms and hospital bills are way beyond a big brother's call of duty. Things have gone too far, so he grabs tighter onto the wheel, presses down on the accelerator, and floors it to the nearest hospital. "I'm sorry, John," he says. "I need some help."


	3. Chapter 3

The call's from Scott. Whenever someone calls this late, it's always Scott and it's always bad. The last time this happened, John had walked through the front door with a shiner and a bruise along his jaw that would have made a street fighter jealous. So Gordon knows who's calling and he knows that he should get the icepack ready.

"What do you _mean_ 'at the hospital'?" Dad says, already grabbing the keys. "John's at astronomy club."

Gordon knows that he's not supposed to be paying attention. He knows he's supposed to be indifferent. But the word is harsh and cold and makes him feel like he's hit the bottom of the ocean. Hospital.

John's been hurt before. Bad. Gordon can't figure out why Scott and Virgil don't just alternate shifts on a twenty-four hour tail. God knows it'd be easier. Easier than watching John limp home. Easier than listening to him cry when he thinks no one can hear him. Easier than watching him wear sunglasses at the breakfast table because The Sun Hurts His Eyes Dad, even though John could probably stare at the sun through a freakin' telescope and still yap about how beautiful it is when he's good and blind.

But hospitals... hospitals are new territory and Gordon just hopes that his brother's not dead.

Dad stops mid-step and Gordon knows he's not supposed to hear, but he lends an ear anyways. "They _what_?" he all but screams. "Who? When? _Who_? I want full names, Scott. I want phone numbers - _I want the names_."

Gordon knows the names, of course. He hears them in his head sometimes when John comes home in pieces. Over and over again, like a chant. Like a promise. But Dad doesn't ask him anything. Dad never does. In his mind, Gordon's too young to know what's going on with the big boys. He goes to school, goes to practice, and then he comes home.

But there's another part of Gordon's day that Dad doesn't know about. It's the part when Scott calls - always too late and always with bad news. "Hey there, big guy," he'd always say. "Still got that makeup?"

He always does. As long as he's got acne, Gordon will always have makeup, but it's not like it does much good. Gordon spends all his free time on the beach and the only time John goes outside is when it's dark enough to see Orion. Still, an out-of-place tan looks way better on John's cheek than a bruise does, so when his older brothers get home, Gordon takes his turn helping John walk and the two of them sneak into the bathroom and come up with a plan for the next day.

But Scott's not calling him. Scott's calling Dad. Gordon has seen John with sprained wrists and bruised guts and half his hair torn out, but this time Scott's calling Dad. _That's_ how bad this is. Whatever happened tonight is worse than ever before and Gordon can't shake the feeling that John might actually be dead this time. He's got to be. There's nothing else left that they could do to him.

"I'll be there in five," Dad tells Scott as he rushes towards the door. "Yes, tell them that your father is coming with the information."

Gordon realizes that he's standing up and he calls out just before Dad can slam the door. "Dad?"

They both freeze and it's like Dad's remembering that he has more sons than just John. He nods, gives Gordon the slimmest smile, and says, "Everything's okay." For a moment, Gordon believes him. "Watch your brother."

And then its Gordon's turn to remember that he's got more than just John. Alan. He's supposed to be sleeping, but Gordon knows that he's not. Gordon knows that Alan always waits for John to get home. He's just about to tell Dad this, thinking that if he knew, he'd let them go with him, but Dad's already gone and Gordon's got to take care of the little snot while both of them wonder if John's ever coming home again.

He can't take it anymore - _won't_ take it. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and this time it's his turn to call Scott. "Hey, big guy."

"Scott," Gordon sputters. "How bad is it? Is he okay? Is he-?"

"He's going to be fine," says Scott. "They say he'll be fine."

Gordon lets out a long, tired breath, feeling like he's been underwater for far too long. "Good," he says, calmer now. "Good. 'Cause, y'know. Alan was wondering."

Scott laughs and, all at once, Gordon knows that it really will be okay. "Tell _Alan_ that John's fine. We'll be home in an hour - two tops."

"Okay," Gordon says, but he can't think about anything but John. "Okay. Well. Tell him to hurry up, already. Alan's waiting."

Silence, and Gordon's kind of glad he has brothers who can see right through him. "I know he is," Scott says finally. "We'll be home soon."


	4. Chapter 4

It used to be Virgil.

For a long time, he was smaller and punier than John and, when Virgil's honest with himself, he knows that there's always going to be someone who wants to beat up the kid with a paintbrush in hand, so it used to be Virgil. He remembers getting shoved into the lockers and getting targeted in dodgeball. He remembers having to each lunch with the teachers and he remembers walking into the art room, only to find that his assignments had been torn to shreds. Virgil remembers what it's like to be _the one_ and he can't believe he's let it happen to John.

The pencil sounds too loud over the faint hiss of someone's oxygen tank and the cries from the baby in the corner. Scott's been pacing since they got there and Virgil's pretty sure he's worn holes in the carpet by now or, at the very least, has driven every other person in that waiting room to insanity.

"Sir," says a nurse, and Virgil's just trying to imagine a situation in which Scott might ever be considered a _sir_. "Please. You have to sit down."

"My brother's in there," snaps Scott for what is probably the tenth time to the tenth nurse.

"I understand that sir," says the nurse, filled with faux sympathy. Mostly she just sounds tired and like she doesn't think she gets paid enough to deal with scared seventeen-year-olds. "But you're making the other patrons feel anxious."

"Well if you would let me back there with him, then that wouldn't be a problem, now would it?"

Scott's a charming guy. It's something that Virgil admires about him. Usually he can talk his way in and out of any situation, but Scott's always reacted strongly to pressure. He's always had something in him that flares up once his adrenaline gets going. Tonight is no different. Scott's got nothing to do, so all he's just going to yell at some nurses until he feels a little less useless.

Virgil just buries himself back into the notebook.

The sketches are jagged and harsh. His strokes are too hard and his pencil's too soft. His hands haven't stopped shaking since they found that note in Scott's locker - _The sports shed would be a horrible place to die._

They never used to beat on Virgil this bad. Maybe they were too scared back then, but it's been years and the beatings have only escalated, one punch at a time, and now they're in a hospital and they haven't seen John in an hour. Virgil used to think that they could handle it - that everything was fine and Dad wouldn't need to know. John only had to survive three more years, after all, and then high school would be over. John would go on to be an astrophysicist and his bullies would end up working at the car wash, just like in the movies.

But there's too many of them, and they're too strong. If they keep going at the rate they're going, then John won't even make it to his junior year, much less to graduation. Scott and Virgil can't just keep hunting him down when astronomy club's over and patch him up for the next day. At some point, the patches stop holding up and John starts to fall apart.

So, really, Virgil knows why they called Dad. He knows that this has gone too far, but he still feels a little guilty. After all, it used to be Virgil. He knows how much it hurts. He knows how much it breaks a person. He knows what it's like to look at your father and tell him that you can't fight your own fights and he knows why John never wants Dad to know what's happening.

But they need help. Scott knows it, Virgil knows it, and hopefully John knows it, too.

But until help arrives, there's not much the two of them can do, so Virgil just keeps sketching and Scott just keeps yelling. "I really don't see what the big deal is. I'm his _brother_."

"I'm afraid that only legal guardians can-"

And then the doors slide open, and Virgil can see Dad storming in like lightning's just struck and he's here to put out the fire. Virgil stands, tossing the notebook aside, and Scott looks like he might just crumble with relief. "Dad!" Scott calls out.

Dad's not like Scott. He's just as charming, but he doesn't have that same switch under pressure. He keeps his head on straight until all's said and done. "We're going to talk about this later," he says, eyeing the two of them. Then he looks to the exhausted nurse. "I'd like to see my son, please."

It only takes one glance between Dad and Scott for the nurse to know that they're related. Just like that, they're gone, and Scott and Virgil are back to where they started.


	5. Chapter 5

It's way past his bedtime. Dad must've tucked him in at _least_ twenty hours ago or something, but he's still awake, waiting for John to get home.

Alan knows that there's probably something really awesome going on. Like, whenever John comes home this late, he and Gordon have parties in the bathroom all night long, which would be completely _awesome_ if only Alan were allowed to join in on the fun. Whenever he tries, Scott is always there, telling him that it's, "Too late for future astronauts to be roaming the halls," followed by the inevitable, "Go back to bed, Alan."

So, you see, Alan knows that all of his brothers are out having a good time without him. That's just how things work. He's never allowed to join in on any of the fun that happens after nine o'clock, which is why, when Gordon suggests he come downstairs and the two of them eat an entire container of ice-cream, Alan is entirely for the idea.

"Do you guys get to do this _every night_?" he asks, shoveling another spoonful of Double Chocolate Chunky Fudge into his mouth. It's not Alan's favorite ice-cream, but everything tastes better after bedtime.

"Only when things get particularly crazy," replies Gordon.

And things _are_ crazy, Alan thinks. Only craziness could lead to him being up past his bedtime with ice-cream, and this is after he and Gordon were already done with their massive karaoke competition. "This is the best night ever," he sighs with a grin and a bloated belly.

Gordon smiles back, but even Alan can see that it's not the usual grin that seems to be a permanent feature on his brother's face. "And don't you ever forget it," Gordon says, sticking the spoon into the carton.

Without any sort of warning, they can hear the key scratching against the lock. The two boys look at each other like they've been caught because, well, they have. Gordon snatches the ice-cream from the table and shoves it back into the freezer and Alan can't help but notice that he's fast. Really fast, even, like he's done it before. A lot.

And then Alan can hear Dad and Scott, arguing again. The two always argue, he knows, but usually it's not this quiet. They must think that Alan's in bed.

When Dad looks up, he can see Alan and Gordon sitting at the table. "Dad!" Alan shouts, throwing his arms out for the full hug. "Gordon let me stay up!"

Dad just gives Gordon that look. It's a look he knows well and it's usually followed by a time-out. "And eat ice-cream, I see," he says.

Alan doesn't understand how Dad can possibly know about the ice-cream part and just when he starts to think that Dad might actually be one of those wizards he reads about, Gordon crosses the table and starts to wipe the chocolate off of Alan's face.

"When I told you to watch your brother," Dad says. "I didn't mean wake him up and throw a party."

"Oh, right," says Gordon. "Because _I'm_ the one in trouble tonight."

Dad points his finger like he's about to yell, but then Alan sees John and nothing else matters. "Johnny!" he calls out, taking off in a run.

He's going to hug his brother, and he's going to hug him good, but Scott's already there, probably trying to kill Alan's late-night fun one last time. He scoops Alan off his feet until the run is rendered useless. "Careful, Alan," he says. "No hugs tonight."

Alan can't understand. No hugs? _No hugs_? What the _heck_? He's so angry he could spit, but then he takes a closer look at John and he knows that something's not quite... right.

He looks like a penguin, black and white and waddling when he walks. Scott puts Alan on his own two feet again, and he just _knows_ that he has to get a closer look. He's got to figure out why John isn't smiling and why he's looking down. Never once, in all of Alan's life, has John ever looked down.

He's got this orange thing on his arm, bright and pretty and _hard_. Alan reaches out to touch it, letting it scratch his fingertips. It feel's sort of like a Band-aid, but it's bigger.

And then John's moving, slow and creaky, squatting down to where Alan can see his face. There are so many bruises - way bigger than any Alan's ever had. Darker, too. Alan doesn't even know if John can see him through the bruise on his right eye. On top of that, his lip's got a long cut in it and his cheek looks like it might just pop if Alan even thinks about touching it. "You're hurt," Alan says. "Aren't you?"

The whole room is quiet. Virgil moves to try and push Alan out of the way, but John shakes his head and Alan knows he can stay. John is the only one who answers. "Yeah, buddy," he says. "Yeah, I am."

"Bad?" asks Alan.

This, finally, brings the slimmest smile to John's lips. He shrugs, and even that looks painful, but still he says, "I'll be okay."

And then it's Alan's turn to smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," says John. "After all, the lunar eclipse is next week. Can't miss that."

And then Alan's bouncing, the excitement of space catching up with him as he realizes that it's way past his bedtime and John's home. "Can we go look at the stars?" He asks, eyes twinkling. " _Please_ , please, please? I never get to see the ones that come out this late."

John looks up at Dad and Alan spins to join him. Dad must not be mad anymore, because he looks like he kind of wants to smile. "Alright," he says, finally, and despite the hour and the darkness and just the overall _length_ of the night, the boys seem to spark to life. "Ten minutes," Dad says. "And then it is _so_ bedtime."


End file.
